


Sleepwalkers Dream

by I_eat_Lazers



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Brief mentions of nightmares, Established Relationship, F/F, Fire Emblem: Awakening Spoilers, Fluff, Living in a log cabin in the woods with two cats, Lots of Cuddling, Lots of little smooches, Post-Canon, Tickle Fights
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-24
Updated: 2019-03-24
Packaged: 2019-12-07 01:06:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18227852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_eat_Lazers/pseuds/I_eat_Lazers
Summary: In the settled dust, after the war, nestled within the proud snow-covered trees, a small log cabin sits betwixt the intersection of long-held love and a new beginning.





	Sleepwalkers Dream

Cold chills of early morning pressed against the windows of the cabin, leaving them frosted and opaque. Through the dense barrier of evergreens, early sunrise bathed the small home in broken lines of light and warmth, slowly bringing ice to water, dripping and pooling in shallow depressions amidst the short layer of snow covering the ground. From the front of the house, a lone figure, garbed in a coat of night and gold, watched the small world that was her home come to life.

Clutching the steaming mug of tea closer to her chest, Robin sank into one of the armchairs adorning the porch. While winter undeniably brought many issues with it, she could not deny that winter mornings were among the most beautiful of sights. The birds had flown south, the mammals asleep in their dens, leaving few sounds save the gentle wind rustling the trees, the steady drip of snowmelt, and the occasional thump as branches gave way to the weight they bore. The near silence was a balm to the cacophony of thoughts and voices threatening to burst forth to the forefront of Robin’s mind.

“Nightmares again?”

Robin snaps her head left, startled out of her reverie of admiration and nearly spilling her tea. Despite the quiet surrounding her, she hadn’t heard the door open. She takes a sip of her tea before answering. “Yes, my love. I’d hoped to not wake you.”

“You didn’t,” Emmeryn laughs quietly, meandering to Robin’s side. “This is the first sun we’ve had in days. In its absence, I’m afraid I’ve been lax in closing the blinds.” Leaning down, she presses a soft kiss to Robin’s temple before settling into the chair next to her. Intertwining their fingers, both women immerse themselves in naught but the purest sense of belonging, the unadulterated knowledge that should the world cease to be, they would remain together amongst the stars.

Minutes pass until Robin breaks the silence. “It was the same nightmare,” she admits softly. “Seeing through Grima’s eyes… hurting Chrom, the Shepherds, you… I…” Voice breaking, she rests her head on Emmeryn’s shoulder, eyes burning with cursed memory.

“Hush now, my love. Do not torment yourself with knowledge of one who was not you.” Emmeryn frees her hand and languidly runs it through Robin’s dark locks. As the motion repeats, once, twice, and uncountable times more, the tears fall as they may, and Emmeryn holds her other close, and in the hushed hours of a winter morn they watch the melting snow.

 

- 

 

The midday sun is deceptive in its grandeur. Despite the powerful rays it sends to warm the earth, winters grasp is not easily relinquished, and chilly wind reigns supreme across the sun-dappled trees. Robin curses this as she raises the axe high and brings it low, splitting firewood. It’s a necessary chore, lest they wish to freeze, but Robin would prefer the light fall of snow to this deadening chill, seeping between the smallest gaps of clothing and causing her to fumble her grip.

As she neatly piles the wood beside their splitting stump, a faint brush against her leg gives her pause. Glancing down, eyes of ocean blue gaze up at her.

“Mist! What in the name of Naga’s left tit are you doing out here?” As was her custom, Mist deigned only to respond by continuing her assault upon Robin’s legs, purring all the while. Sighing, Robin leaned down and allowed the mottled brown and ginger cat to brush her hand, causing Mist’s purring to increase in both volume and intensity. “Let’s get you back inside,” Robin muttered, picking up the overly friendly cat and hoisting her into her arms. “I swear, you’d wander off with the first visitor you saw if Jill weren’t around to keep you anchored here.”

Once inside, Mist immediately dashes to the sitting room, nearly crashing into the small cushion set across from a smoldering fireplace. As she curls up beside the resident calico, Jill’s only acknowledgment is to lazily open one eye and close it, though Robin knows from experience that she’s softly purring her welcome. Pausing to scratch Jill’s ears and add a log to the fire, she continues onward to the kitchen, drawn by scents of simmering vegetables and warm bread, and the faintest vanilla perfume.

After softly kissing the back of Emmeryn’s neck, Robin moves to her side and wraps an arm around her waist. “Need any help with that?”

“No, but thank you for offering.” Emmeryn replies, reaching to take a sip of soup. “The vegetables need only simmer for a few minutes more.”

“In that case… Perhaps I can steal you away for a few moments.”

“Whatever for?” Emmeryn continues stirring, tone oozing suspicion, having fallen prey to many of her wife’s silly pranks. Feeling the pressure around her waist drop away, she turns her head only to have it pulled down into Robin’s waiting lips. Closing her eyes, Emmeryn twists the rest of her body flush with Robin’s, sinking into familiar and wonderful sensation, relishing the knowledge of time finally being on their side. There is no frantic rush, no desperate contact as it was during the war, only the unhurried reveling in the loving touch of the other. Pulling her lips back and pressing their foreheads together, Emmeryn giggles. “You’re a bit of a dork sometimes, my dear raven.”

Robin’s neck flushes as she pulls back and glares directly into mirthful hazel eyes. “How long will you insist on calling me that by that ridiculous nickname?”

“Only so long as it continues to embarrass you, my love,” Emmeryn’s grin widens, and she returns her attention to the simmering pot. “After all, it’s the name you gave me when first we met.” Grabbing a long wooden spoon, she gently stirs.

Robin folds her arms, tucking her head in embarrassment and grumbling under her breath.

“What was that?”

“I said it’s not my fault you flustered me so badly that I forgot my name and misspoke!” Robin turns her back and continues, “I’d never been to Ylisstol before, much less to meet the beloved ruler of the entire nation! And there you were, resplendent in your robes and crown… I thought you were an angel.” Emmeryn reaches out to Robin’s shoulder, gently spinning her around.

“You have always been so sweet, my love,” Emmeryn breathes, bending forward to kiss Robin’s forehead. “I treasure that memory so because no other meeting could have changed my life more. While teasing you does bring me joy, recalling our first moment together will always be what I truly remember from that day.” Lifting Robin’s chin with a finger, Emmeryn quickly smooches her nose and exclaims, “Come now! The food is ready and if we dally any longer, Mist will find it and burn her poor tongue trying to taste it again.”

Robin gathers bowls and utensils, while Emmeryn sets the food, and together they eat and laugh and discuss the lighter parts of life.

 

- 

 

While winter brings longer nights and days lacking light, and early setting suns, evening still conjures glory and beauty and ethereal qualities, unlike any other season. Snow-laden trees burn orange and pink, and those without leaves cast tangled shadows, twisted arms beckoning. A natural paradox, brightest life and gnarled death, brought forth from one source. In the midst of it all, lazy smoke curls from a stone chimney, brushing needled trees before vanishing into the fading light.

Though Robin and Emmeryn dedicate much of their floor space to comfortable furniture, both for themselves and the cats, the second most predominant feature of their cabin are the myriad spaces utilized as bookshelves. On the mantle over the fireplace is set Robin’s old tactician tomes, no longer used but kept dusted and clean. The small study in the far corner of the cabin is home to books on history, on language and scholarly pursuits, a space dedicated to learning and writing. Though the war is over, both women sleep with a magical tome nearby, remnants of a time when sleep was oft broken by creatures of nightmares.

The sitting room contains the largest collection, works of fiction and amusement, tragedy and drama. An entire shelf sits full of gifts from Sumia and Cordelia, wistful romances that Emmeryn shamelessly devours. Robin prefers novels written of the future, full of hope and fantastic inventions, filled with magic both familiar and new.

Emmeryn lays sprawled across the couch, legs bent to accommodate a dozing Jill. Amber rays of sun seep through the window behind her, illuminating her book. Out of the corner of her eye, Robin teases Mist with a piece of string in a futile attempt to exhaust some of the feline’s boundless energy. The sight, a constant familiarity, tugs Emmeryn’s lips into a smile, and she marks her page and turns to watch. With one hand, she reaches down and pets Jill, scratching behind her ears and on her neck.

Robin finally accepts defeat and surrenders the string to Mist, who promptly begins tearing at it with her paws, mewling in victory. Robin slides towards the couch, leaning back and resting her head against Emmeryn’s calf. Closing her eyes, she says, “Have I ever told you how wonderful a pillow your legs are, my dear?”

“Only about once or twice a week,” Emmeryn teases, ruffling Robin’s hair before returning to her book. She reads in silence for a few minutes before adding, “Sometimes I think you married me just for my legs.”

“You got me.” Robin turns and begins gently massaging Emmeryn’s leg, tracing the delicate curve of her calf towards her knee and back down. She reaches down and grasps the edge of Emmeryn’s tunic. “May I?”

Emmeryn nods her assent.

Robin delicately lifts the hem upward, finally letting it rest just above Emmeryn’s knees. Leaning forward, she kisses just above the ankle, then higher and higher, making each kiss last slightly longer, a bit deeper, savoring the soft silky skin while she brushes her thumb faintly along the outline of Emmeryn’s leg bone. At the other end of the couch, Emmeryn leans backward and hums, deep in her throat. “My love, that feels wonderful.”

Robin smiles. “My pleasure.” When her lips have finally reached Emmeryn’s knee, she pulls back, smirking. “And this will be even better,” she says, reaching forward to tickle the back of Emmeryn’s knee.

“Ahhh! You…!” Emmeryn erupts into laughter, rolling onto the floor, dislodging the protesting pile of Jill, who scampers off into a distant room. “You will pay dearly for this treachery!” Emmeryn exclaims, pushing herself upward toward Robin. She reaches between the folds of Robin’s coat and grasps her sides, prodding them lightly while softly pressuring Robin to the floor. Robin’s face is flushed crimson, and she squirms under Emmeryn’s attack.

Squealing with laughter, Robin raises her hands to the small of Emmeryn’s back and pulls her downward, shifting to her side. There they lay, faces red and laughter light, the final vestiges of the sun fading from the windows, and soon they see only by the dimming firelight. Robin slowly rises to her feet, pulls her other upward, and together they tend the flames and light lamps, and sit across the other on the couch, hands full of books and legs intertwined.

 

- 

 

Winter may be home to the longest darks and shortest lights, with sunlight oft hidden by clouds, but nighttime brings more brightness than summer in all its warmth. Freshly fallen snow reflects moonbeams and star-shine, bathing the forest with an ethereal glow. Snow blankets the ground, covering the labors of day, providing fresh landscapes for the morrow. Through gaps in trees and clouds above, further still twinkle brilliant lights, burning brighter amidst the white.

Emmeryn stands in the washroom, watching through the window as flurries of snow settle around her home. She reaches back and lets her hair fall, and it nestles between her shoulder blades. Grabbing a brush, she delicately drags it through the golden strands, relaxing her mind; a calming ritual. The act brings focus inward, away from worries of the day. If she listens closely, she can hear Robin in the distance, leaving food and water for the cats.

Setting the brush aside, she washes her face, a cleansing act, leaving her feeling clean and refreshed. Moving back to their bedroom, she slips out of day clothes and into a silk nightgown, one of the few clothing items she kept from her old life. A tad ostentatious, perhaps, marked as it was with Naga’s brand, but when one has trouble sleeping, it is foolish to deny comforts.

Robin joins her soon after. Standing at the window with arms wrapped around waists, they silently watch the snow. Clouds pass in front of the moon, causing shadows to blend and then burst forth again as light moves in flux.

In the fading flicker of bedside candles, they move from the window to the bed, seeking warmth under blankets. As the last moonbeams dim behind clouded skies, two women are home in the eyes of their other, arms clasped around backs and legs twisted together. Their kisses are unhurried, filled with passion and trust. Hands wander beneath silk and shirt, sliding over hips and stomachs and waists. They whisper I love yous and darlings and dears, and fall asleep without thought of past fears.

Within the small log cabin between the tall proud trees, love has been, love is, and love always shall be.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! <3


End file.
